Unwell
by fleurofthecourt
Summary: After Nick and Monroe spill an unmarked vial in the trailer, Nick has both an inexplicable need to find Monroe and an unexplained fever. Juliette helps with both, but probably kind of wishes she didn't because she starts to suspect that Nick is losing his marbles and head over heels for Monroe.


A/N:

I started writing this like right before the season 1 finale, so imagine it's set before Juliette loses her memory of Nick and before he tells her he's a Grimm.

I have really mixed feelings about Juliette, and I think this fic exemplifies that (please don't read this as I don't like _Juliette_ because that's not what I mean)...

* * *

Rain lashed against the window of the dimly lit room as Nick huddled in the corner of the hospital bed, pulling his knees up to his chest. Although he didn't suppose it would help, he wanted to start sobbing into his pillow because what else did he have left to do? As far as he was concerned, a man with 102.5 degree fever should not have been listened to, no matter how hysterical he might have been, but apparently, Juliette had thought otherwise. Though, in Juliette's defense, he hadn't really given her much of a choice.

He felt like he should have seen this coming, given that it really was the logical thing to do from Juliette's perspective, but who really sees their girlfriend checking them into the the local hospital just because she doesn't believe you when you tell her that your ancestors are something like the police to a society of fairy tale like creatures? Certainly not Nick.

Again, in Juliette's defense, it wasn't just that she thought Nick was delusional (though she really, really did), it was also that that pesky high grade fever still hadn't gone away and seemed strangely impervious to the hospital's medication. It didn't take much for Nick to work out that he needed wesen medicine (or something of the kind), but as he had been flagged as being a danger to himself, he couldn't so much as attempt to climb out of bed without several members of the hospital staff running into the room. And he couldn't call anyone because Juliette had taken his phone.

Nick sighed as he decided that he wouldn't be there if only Monroe wasn't such a klutz. Then he really did start sobbing because that just left him wondering where Monroe was and if he was okay, which was, in reality, what had set off his complete feverish overdose of truth in the first place. Because, honestly, if he hadn't been so worried about Monroe, he probably wouldn't have gone completely overboard in his confessing his position as your friendly than average neighborhood Grimm.

The day before, he and Monroe had been doing research in the trailer, when Monroe, had accidentally, in a fit of something that blurred the line between excitement and rage over a bottle that proclaimed to be more effective than wolfsbane at numbing the keen sense of smell that most wesen had, knocked over a vial with a peeling, barely legible label filled with a noxious smelling, blue liquid, and it had spilled onto both of them. They had carefully wiped it off and cleaned up the glass, figuring taking showers when they went home would take care of it. It didn't have the poison label on it that the siegbarste gift had, so how dangerous could it really be?

Once Nick left the trailer and he and Monroe had parted ways, he hadn't given it a second thought.

Later in the evening, Nick had fortunately, mostly, wrapped up the case Monroe had been helping him with, and unfortunately started to feel an overwhelming weariness that suggested he was coming down with some kind of bug. Juliette put her hand on his forehead, made tsking noises, fixed him chicken soup for dinner, and sent him to bed.

In the middle of the night, he was in the throes of a nightmare wherein Monroe was being immersed in and subsequently dissolved in a familiar seeming blue liquid, screaming in pain. He woke up in a panic, shaking and sweating. He could have sworn he had been yelling Monroe's name, but it must not have been aloud as Juliette seemed oblivious to his preliminary concern, which was anything but his own well being.

"Nick, calm down," Juliette said as she rubbed his back. "It was just a dream. It can't have been a good one, but it was just a dream."

She hesitated a moment before asking quietly, "Was it about your parents again?"

Nick furrowed his brow, then, in complete disregard of her question, said, "I don't know how that blue stuff will affect a Blutbad. We have to find Monroe!"

"Nick, what are you talking about? What's a Blutbad?" Juliette asked quizzically as she placed her hand against his forehead again. "You're burning up. I'm going to go get you some Tylenol so you can go back to sleep."

"No. Juliette, Monroe needs me," Nick insisted again, his eyes fever bright and determined. Although he wasn't sure how much of this had been the fever and how much of it had been some kind of instinctual concern that something was really deeply wrong, he had been positive at that moment that he had to go find Monroe. And he had to find Monroe as soon as possible. "He's probably sick too. Probably worse than I am. More of the blue stuff got on him than me. And it's probably supposed to be dangerous to wesen."

"Nick, you're speaking gibberish," Juliette said. Then, as she pulled her fingers through his hair, she added,"It's the middle of the night. And as much as I'm sure Monroe would appreciate that you're worried about him, I think you can call and check up on him in the morning."

But Nick pulled away from her and climbed off the bed. He didn't say anything, but he looked at Juliette pleadingly as he drew his lips together before he started pulling on pants and his blue jacket. Juliette climbed off the bed and wrapped her arms around him, "Okay, slow down, if you aren't going to listen to me, at least try to call him first. I know there's a rational man down there behind all the fevered delirium."

She pulled his phone off the bedside table, scrolled through his speed dial for Monroe's number, pressed call, and handed him the phone. The phone rang and rang. Nick leaned heavily against his dresser, uncertain that he would still be standing if it weren't there, wishing that the gut wrenching feeling that he and Monroe should have investigated what in the hell that blue stuff was would go away. Each unanswered ring made his heart sink a little lower. Monroe may have complained that late night phone calls interrupted his strict, measured routine once, twice, or maybe a dozen times, but he had never completely ignored Nick.

"I'm going over there," Nick announced as he fished into the pockets of his jacket and his jeans for his truck keys. He couldn't remember where he had left them, and trying to remember was making what was already a severe headache worse. He finally found them in his back pocket and headed towards the door while Juliette trailed behind as she insisted he go back to bed.

In the end, Nick found himself with a blanket wrapped around him in the passenger seat of Juliette's car with Tylenol and a glass of water in hand. He swallowed both as he gave Juliette a grateful look as they pulled out of the driveway and headed towards Monroe's house.

Unsurprisingly, as it was the middle of the night, when they arrived at Monroe's none of the lights, inside or out, were on, but strangely, the Volkswagen was not in the driveway. Regardless, Nick unbuckled his seatbelt as Juliette pushed him back against the seat, "Nick, I don't think he's even home. But I'll go knock on the door to be sure. You stay here."

Nick nodded in defeat, then pulled the blanket tighter around him as he shivered against the cool air that drifted into the car as Juliette opened the car door. He watched as she knocked uncertainly, just below the stained glass wolf. When Monroe didn't materialize in the doorframe after a few minutes, Nick climbed out of the car and ran up to the house, with the blanket trailing behind him.

"Nick, he's not home," Juliette said. "You don't need to break into your friend's house!"

Oh but he did. Nothing would convince him that Monroe was completely fine other than seeing Monroe being completely fine.

Nick swayed slightly before pulling his key chain out of his jacket pocket and holding up one of the keys suggestively, "It's not breaking in if I have a key."

"You have a key? Why do you have a key?" Juliette sputtered. Nick supposed Monroe's reaction would have been much the same as Monroe was unaware that he had had a spare key made for himself. But he'd had one made for Monroe for his house too, so he figured they were even. He just assumed it would be easier than having to break into each other's houses if it ever came to that. Which, he reasoned, at this precise moment, it had.

Nick shrugged, "Yeah. I always need to be able to find Monroe for things no one else can help me with."

Juliette gave him a questioning look but still followed him through the door.

Aside from the ticking of the ubiquitous clocks, there was little sound coming from inside the house. Nonetheless, Juliette followed behind Nick as he gestured for them to climb the stairs to Monroe's bedroom, continually glancing over her shoulder as though she expected to be caught. When they made it to the bedroom, they found that Monroe's bedspread was firmly tucked in, suggesting that Monroe hadn't even dreamt of sleeping there.

"Nick, can we go home now?" Juliette whispered to him, concern lacing her words. "Monroe's clearly out somewhere. It is Friday night. I'm sure he's fine."

"No, I don't think he is! He's not really the going out type." Nick insisted. Then, he exclaimed with fervent, desperate hopefulness, "Maybe he went to the trailer!"

"What trailer?" Juliette asked as she helped Nick back down the stairs. He had been unsteady going up them, but it seemed ever more likely that he would just fall down them.

"Aunt Marie's trailer," Nick answered simply, as though this was not opening a giant can of worms.

"Wait, the trailer that you said you sold?" Juliette asked suspiciously.

"Yeah, that one," Nick said, his fever addled brain making no attempt to stop him from sharing all kinds of things best kept secret. "All of my Grimm books are in there. And newsreels. And weapons. And potions. All wesen hunting things."

"Nick..." Juliette started. Then she took a deep breath, "Nick, I'm really starting to think that you need help. I'm sure Monroe's fine, and nothingyou're saying is making any sense."

"Juliette, please. If he isn't at the trailer, I'll let it drop," Nick said. This wasn't true, but he didn't know how else to convince her to do it. She was clearly losing her patience with him, and he didn't really blame her.

There was a part of him that knew that, rationally, looking for Monroe when he couldn't adequately tell the heater from the air conditioner on the car's dashboard was not high on any good idea lists. However, he couldn't stop fixating on how odd it was that a fever and headache were his only symptoms, and both had been non existent earlier in the day, before the trailer and the incident with the vial. His nightmare served further proof that he should trust his instincts on this. Under the circumstances, he didn't really believe in coincidence.

"Nick, this isn't you talking. It's the fever. Let's go home and get you back in bed. This has already gone too far," Juliette said.

"Juliette, please," Nick said, his voice breaking. "You don't understand. I can't make you understand unless we go to the trailer. But this is more serious than you realize."

"I think you're right. You're delirious," Juliette said, turning the key in the ignition and backing out of the driveway. "We're going home. Then, in the morning, I'm taking you to the doctor. I never should have indulged you to begin with. Nick, this is crazy."

"It is crazy. I could hardly believe it myself. But, Juliette if we just go to the trailer," Nick said cajolingly, placing his hand on the side of the steering wheel and just barely starting to turn it.

"Have you lost your mind?" Juliette asked, turning her head and looking at him sharply. After a moment, her expression softened because she clearly thought he actually had lost his mind, and therefore accusing him of it was downright mean.

"I thought I was, before," Nick said. He knew that her question had been rhetorical, and she wasn't asking for him to tell her this. But if he wanted to find Monroe, what choice did he have? "When I first started seeing wesen. They're like half human, half creature hybrids, after all. Like Monroe. Monroe's a Blutbad. Part of him is wolflike, and I guess my ancestors used some bastardization of German to name the creatures."

"Nick..." Juliette said. He could hear in her voice a pleading for him to stop telling her all of this, any of this. She clearly just didn't want to know. Although, at the moment, he was far more worried about Monroe than Juliette's not unexpected reaction to his confession, it stung that not only did she not believe him, she wouldn't even let him get through his explanation. He sighed before pressing on regardless. She didn't have to understand right now; the important thing was that she believe him.

"I'm a Grimm, Juliette," Nick said, turning towards her, letting his glassy eyes lock with hers. "I'm descended from a line of people who hunt fairy tale like creatures. I'm not like the other ones, and I didn't ask to be this. But I am."

"Nick, you're scaring me," Juliette said, looking as though she were on the verge of tears. Then she pressed her hand to his forehead, "I changed my mind. I'm taking you to the hospital. I think you're fever must have gone up even higher, and clearly you're going to do something insane, like try to leave, if we go back home."

As she pulled out onto the road, he leaned over her and tried for the steering wheel again. She stopped, and then with her voice low and warning, she said, "Nick, I have tranquilizers in my bag. They are meant to be used on dogs, but if you try to drive this car again, I will use them on you."

Ultimately deciding that he didn't want to find out if she would make good on her threat, Nick slumped against the passenger side window, shivering. He tried to begin explaining being a Grimm to her a few more times, but each time, she pursed her lips and gave him a long look, begging him to stop with nothing but her eyes. Since he clearly couldn't do anything else, he decided that once he was at the hospital, he would call Hank and Rosalee and try Monroe again.

Once he had been admitted and fever reducers and anti-virals had been pumped into his system, Juliette came and sat beside him, taking his hand, "Nick, I don't know what is going on with you, but I hope you can tell me when you're feeling better. I really do."

"Juliette, it's not... it's not just the fever talking. What I told you is true. Just think about all the things that have happened recently and tell me it doesn't make sense," Nick said as he pressed his fingers into hers. "Tell me it doesn't."

"Nick..." Juliette said, then she seemed to really be turning things over in her mind. "I want to believe you, and I believe that you believe it. But Nick, I can't imagine you'd tell me the same thing if you weren't delirious."

"Juliette, if you really want to believe me, can you do one thing for me?" Nick asked. Juliette squeezed his hand and half nodded.

"I think it depends on what you ask," Juliette said. " I'm afraid of what you could ask of me at the moment."

"If I tell you where it is and give you the key, can you go to the trailer yourself?" Nick asked. "Everything in there is related to my being a Grimm."

Juliette, looking doubtfully at the hospital floor, nodded reluctantly, "I can...do that."

When she walked out a short while later, Nick fished his phone out of from under the sheets and started to dial Hank's number, which took him a few minutes because he was having trouble focusing on the screen, "Hey Hank, would you be able to look into where Monroe... yeah, the clock guy...where he's been...I need to find him; I think he's in trouble... no he's not technically missing... yet... but can you look into it anyway? ...Thanks, Hank."

Juliette, who had been walking back into the room holding a freshly acquired coffee, gave him a wary look. Then she took his phone and put it in her pocket, "Nick, you aren't going to get better if you keep obsessing over this. I'll bring your phone back tomorrow. In the meantime, let Hank and I worry about Monroe. Now try to get some rest, okay?"

She brushed his bangs back from his forehead before kissing it gently. Then she left, and he stared out into the hallway for a while, trying to ignore all the thoughts bubbling up in his mind. His girlfriend thought that he was lunatic, and currently a delirious one. He didn't really want to know what she'd think if he didn't have a high grade fever. The fever itself was starting to worry him too, now that he knew just how high it was. Finally, his worry for Monroe was a dull ache that wouldn't go away. Whenever he tried to start thinking about something else, his thoughts inevitably drifted back to Monroe, Monroe drowning in a thick gooey blue liquid.

While he didn't remember doing so, he must have fallen asleep at some point, because he woke up to a dim grayness that suggested it was daytime, despite the endless stream of rain falling against the hospital window. A nurse had come in to tell him that they were going to keep giving him fever reducers, because although they didn't seem to be reducing his fever significantly it hadn't gone up either and they were taking that as a good sign.

As he huddled hopelessly against the back of the bed, there was a faint knock on the hospital door.

Nick looked up to see Juliette frowning and holding on to someone's arm.

She tugged him slowly into view, and to Nick's surprise, Monroe stood there looking every bit as bad as Nick felt. He knew then that he had been right about the potion. But, shortly thereafter, oh did he wish he were wrong.

"Monroe! We need to find out what was in the potion, don't we? Or find some kind of antidote?" Nick asked, relief flooding into him, that if nothing else, he knew where Monroe was.

Monroe wordlessly and warily approached the hospital bed with a little support from Juliette.

"Nick...we, uh, we need to palaver. Well technically we need to do more than that, but, uh, I don't know to how to say this..." Monroe said, combing his hand through sweat dampened hair. "Well, I was searching for you the whole time you were searching for me. And um, I called Rosalee and asked her if she knew about the potion..."

Monroe sat down in the chair next to the bed, sighed deeply and dramatically, and then buried his face in his hands.

Juliette walked over and rested her hand on Nick's. "I believe you now, but I think, yeah, I think this is going to be the end of us."

She leaned down and kissed Nick on the forehead. "Just know that I know you didn't know, but I guess you can't help who you love. And Nick, it isn't me. I know you wish it were, but Nick, you can't share a life with someone you can't share secrets with."

When Nick started to protest, Juliette held up her hand to stop him, "I know why you didn't. I understand that. But because of that Monroe's been something like my emotional placeholder, taking in all the things you couldn't tell me. And Nick, you want him to be more."

Nick looked at her quizzically, like he didn't understand, and honestly, he didn't. He knew that he liked Monroe, much more than liked, in point of fact, and he suspected that Monroe liked him - because why the hell else would he have given in the first few times he asked for help? However, he had been with Juliette for three years, and although he had recently felt like they were drifting apart, he believed he was in love with her, despite a little voice in the back of his head that told him he really wasn't anymore. He knew his crush couldn't, shouldn't go anywhere. So how would either of them know how he really felt? It had to have been one hell of a conversation in the car ride over.

"Nick..." Monroe said piteously. "It's the potion. She knows because of the potion."

Juliette pursed her lips together, "I went to the trailer like you told me, and I almost couldn't believe it. Monroe was there, just like you thought he would be, and, as you can see, he is sick as dog, just like you. He was looking for you, too, and I knew... I just knew that that couldn't all be a coincidence."

"I was thumbing through some of your books, trying to, you know, find the potion. Your ancestors really didn't do us any favors with their record keeping, by the way... there's barely anything in there about non lethal potions," Monroe said as he alternated between keeping his arms wrapped around his chest and making narrative gestures with his hands. "Anyway, by the time Juliette got to the trailer, I had found the name of the potion, but that didn't tell me what it did, and I'd kinda passed out on the books anyway."

"Monroe, put yourself out of your misery and just kiss him already," Rosalee, who had apparently been there the whole time, said from where she stood leaning against the doorframe. "Juliette, we didn't really get a proper introduction on the way over here. Would you like to grab a coffee downstairs with me?"

Rosalee took Juliette, who looked like she wanted any excuse to leave anyway, by the hand and led her into the hallway.

"Kiss me?" Nick said, feeling kind of faint, which wasn't really new, but it felt like a whole different kind of faint than before.

"Yeah, uh, Nick, Rosalee showed up right after Juliette did. Explained that that vial had some kind of love potion in it," Monroe said, as he moved over to Nick and leaned shakily against the bed rail.

"And if we kiss, we break the fever spell?" Nick said. Then after a deep breath, "So this is all because of the potion...that's good."

Nick tried not to let his voice convey how not good that he found that to be. It might have anyway.

Then Monroe, looking slightly offended and taken aback,"Uh, it's not just because of the potion...I don't..."

Monroe's words were cut off by Nick firmly pressing his lips to Monroe's and wrapping one arm around his shoulders, pulling him forward as he threaded the fingers of his other hand into Monroe's curls, which were, regrettably, still rather sweat dampened. Since they were both slightly shaky, ultimately Monroe ended up half lying on the hospital bed with Nick, a fact which did not change when they finally pulled apart.

"Oh thank God," Nick said as he leaned against the back of the bed and motioned for Monroe to actually lay down next to him. There wasn't a lot of room, but they squeezed in together anyway, with Monroe burying his forehead in Nick's shoulder.

"Monroe, you okay? I mean, if you feel like I do, you feel like hell. But...?" Nick asked, rubbing at his own forehead. It was obvious to him that if the spell had been broken, the healing process hadn't exactly been instantaneous.

"I don't...I didn't want to do this to you and Juliette. I really never did," Monroe said, half sobbing. "I don't want to be like that."

"Oh, Monroe, don't do this to yourself. It was a love potion; what were you supposed to do? Just let the fever slowly kill both of us? Besides, Juliette and I's problems run so much deeper than you." Nick said. "We've just been growing apart ever since I learned I was a Grimm. You can't break something that's already broken."

"I still kind of think I was the last straw," Monroe said, and when Nick didn't reply, he didn't say anything for a long while. He just lay there, letting Nick, who was deep in thought, keep running his fingers through his hair.

"Monroe, how did the potion work? You said we didn't have to kiss each other just because of it...? I'm not sure I understand," Nick said.

"Well, uh, the potion, anima animae , doesn't actually directly affect the person that it's spilled on at all," Monroe said, looking away. "It affects the person that they have the deepest feelings for, and creates, uh, a feverish obsession with that person until they are, you know, kissed by the person the potion was spilled on. And uh, clearly, it didn't affect Juliette or, uh... Rosalee."

Monroe reached to brush his hair back, blushing slightly.

"Right, right," Nick said, privately thinking that Rosalee hadn't appeared to take it too hard, but refused to say so out loud.

"So I'm just snapping cupid's arrows in half over here," Monroe muttered.

"Hey, I think I dragged you into this," Nick said. "So I'll take at least half of the blame. Possibly more since you were helping me in the trailer when this happened."

"Yeah, I just had to go fall for you," Monroe said. "Of course it's your fault."

Nick smiled at that, "Well, if it's any consolation, I fell for you too."

"I guess I can deal with that," Monroe said, his lips curling into a smile as well.

"Now, I don't know about you, but I want to sleep for like three days," Nick said, punctuating his words with an exaggerated yawn. "Preferably not here."

"I think doing all that research with a fever kind of addled my brain a little," Monroe said. "So I'm with you. If your fever's down, which it should be, you can probably get checked out of here."

"And you never got admitted," Nick said. "Right."

However, when Rosalee and Juliette walked back in the room some ten minutes later to check on them, they were curled up together, sound asleep.

"Think we should wake them up?" Juliette asked, brushing a tear from her cheek. "That can't be comfortable."

Rosalee shook her head for a moment, "Not yet. You know he didn't mean to, but Nick broke your heart. You can let him be a little uncomfortable for it."


End file.
